Shortly after sending that last text, he responded. Please don't tell me he's one of those guys that doesn't understand the meaning of a goodnight text.

I KNEW you were still awake.

Not anymore.

Nooooo please come back don't leave me alone.

Is that a real plea for help or are you being
dramatic

Now you speak up

I'm going to bed Em.

Without me?!

GOODNIGHT EMERSON

Night love 😘

I turn off my phone and clear up my couch a little, coming to the conclusion of I'm such a pig. There's pizza boxes, Oreos sleeves, ice cream containers and the random glass bottle that surely held vodka or something at some point. But that doesn't matter right now, since I'm still reeling from the sheer audacity of Parking Lot Boy. I pick my shorts up from the floor, and grab my phone before shuffling off to my room.

Opening my door, the smell hits me. Shoes and sweat. I really need to clean. This depression slump is hitting all sorts of different. Maybe Emerson waltzed in at the right time. "Ooohhh sweet bed do I have some stories for you...." I moan out as I flop onto my bed. I curl up on top of the comforter, not even bothering with a blanket before I completely pass out. This is how I know I've hit a new low.

I feel like I immediately wake up the next day with the sun in my face, a crick in my neck, dried drool on my chin, chapped lips, and overall feeling like shit all while my phone buzzes next to my face. I flip the screen over to see someone calling me, and before I actually register who's calling I answer.

"What?!" I snap into the phone, my voice hoarse from open mouthed sleeping and my throat extra scratchy. "Woa. Love, what's up?" Shit. And just like that, I'm awake.

"Oh shit I'm sorry Emerson, I just woke up." I sit up, groaning lightly as I feel my abdomen muscles tense.
"Did I wake you?" He sounds regretful. The background noise sounds like he's in a car with other people. "Eh. A little. I would have gotten up at some point though. So, why'd you call?" I get straight to the point. He stutters across the line slightly, and I hear other voices jeering at him. Almost encouraging him?

"No real reason Love. Want to meet up today?" He asked, his voice going softer. I bite my lip. This again. But since I don't have a job anymore, and nothing to really do....

"....okay."

Silence for a second. "Really?" Emerson sounds like an excited five year old. "Yeah. Really." I smile at his enthusiasm. "So. When?" I ask, shuffling out of my room in search of day old coffee. I can smell it, somewhere. Hiding. "Ummm. Ten minutes?" If there was something in my mouth, I would have choked.
"Woa! What? Dude!!" My dissatisfaction is evident.

I literally just woke up, I look like shit (not that that's new, but still) and now this guy, this attractive as shit guy who's very voice does weird things to my body, wants to meet up in ten minutes. Oh god I have to shower.

"We can pick you up, just tell me your address." Obviously, he doesn't see the issue with this. I shake my head, even thought he can't see it. "We? And there's no pushing this back a little?" I asked desperately.
"Yeah, Rem, Seb, and I. And nope. Take it or leave it Love." I could practically hear his smile.
"Uh, leave it. I have to shower." I laugh. We argue a little more, and for some reason I give him my address and permission to wait in the living room while I get ready. Emerson bids me adieu (literally), and I fly to my bathroom for an TBA shower. Tits, back, and ass.

The foggy mirror seems incredibly harsh today. My defective eye is practically blending into my pale face, my hazel eye glaringly obvious. I look so washed out, so no neutral or dark tones today. My hair on the left side is dark and shiny, and trying to be straight, but on the right side it fades from the roots down from the same shade of dark brown as the rest of my hair to light blonde at the ends. Only the right side. Always the right side. I can't even explain why it seems so split. My theory is that I have a birthmark on half my face, but it's too pale to be seen on my already pale face.

Sighing, I grab a beanie and pull it on, instantly regretting not drying my hair more. The wet hair makes it easy to pull the rest of my hair into a braid, but it isn't going to dry for at least 20 hours now. It just accentuates the abnormal change in the right side of my scalp, but it makes it look like it's on purpose. Like the strip of changing colors was on purpose. Even though I never asked for it. But I guess it is kind of badass.

There's a knock on the door to my bedroom. "Shit!" I yell to myself, then calling out, "I'll be there in a second!!" I told him to just make himself comfortable. I make sure the towel is securely on me and I poke my head out my door. "Hey." I greet, hiding my body. "Hello Love." Emerson smiles at me. I blush, what's with the nickname?? Maybe he's just an old soul type of person.

"Heeeeey. Wait we've done that. Um, make yourself at home, and I'll be out in a second." I hide behind the door and when he turns his back, then I slam my bedroom door closed. I rush to the closet, throwing the towel on the floor and grabbing the first pair of underwear I find. And yet, a fashion disaster strikes. All these clothes, and nothing to wear.

"How about that dress?" Emerson asked from the doorway. I shriek and spin around, holding my chest. "Emerson what the fuck?!" Entirely, my soul left my body. Heart racing, I feel entirely exposed. Mostly because I am.

He just strolls past me and pulls a short dress out of my closet, holding it out in front of me. I stare at him, my face dark red, as he looks my practically naked body up and down with the dress hanging in front of me. Where did all my common sense go? Why, it was overrun by hormones.

"Yeah. Wear this, Love." He pulls it off the hanger, and lays it on the bed neatly. He turns back to the closet, then looks at me from over his shoulder. "You got any bras to match that underwear?" He asks. My mouth opens and closes mutely. "What am I asking, of course you do." And with that, he walks to my dresser.

This is when I snap out of my trance. My hands fly off my modesty, completely giving up on any dignity I have anymore so I could stop him from opening my dresser drawers. I put my body between him and my dresser, and he looks at me with a quirked eyebrow. However compromising this was, however my mind took this position and wanted to run with it, I have to remember that we have plans. I am not easy!

"Leanne...." Emerson starts, his eyes trailing down my body. I feel very vulnerable, but.... I kind of like it! "You got nice tits, Love." He says quietly, leaning forward and lightly kissing my forehead. His breath trembles on my skin. I sit deadly still, barely breathing. He starts to leave, but before he fully exits my room, he looks back at me. His blue eyes are dark, and he's biting his lower lip. At least he has the decency to look at my face.

"Wear the dress?"

I almost want to laugh. "Don't push your luck Emerson." I'm surprised I haven't broken a finger with how hard I'm holding this dresser. He closes my door. I roll my eyes, "Not like the door does anything anymore." I snark. The breathless hormones started to bubble in me, making me uncomfortably hot.
"Hey, you didn't have to stop me." He's leaning outside the door, I can tell.

"For my own sanity, uh yeah! Kind of did!" I argue, slipping on the matching bra I found under my bed. Why it was under my bed, I can't even tell you.
"I mean, I'm not complaining love. What are they, C's? D's?" He asks. I blush, even though he can't see me. I'm not going to gratify that with a response, but he's not too far off.

I hold the dress up so I can look at it.
"DD's? Cmon Love don't leave me hanging here. Although, I'm anything but hanging right now..." oh Jesus Christ save me. If there is a god, he will smite me now. "Shut up Emerson." I look at myself in the mirror, the dress hanging off my shoulders and landing around mid-thigh with a flare out. A classic skater dress. The downside: If I bend over, there's a very good chance that someone's getting flashed.

"Emerson I can't wear this."

"What? Of course you can." He almost sounds offended at my rejection of his outfit.
"It's too short." I mumble. He opens the door and walks towards me. I fiddle with the ends of the dress, then pluck the top to smooth out the wrinkles.

"You're gorgeous Love." He places his hands on my shoulders, and I shrug them off of me. I scrunch up my face. "Don't touch me right now." My skin bubbles with internal heat. Emerson doesn't understand. "What's wrong Leanne?" Sad puppy eyes. I can't break now, for now is the time for hard lines. "Boundaries Em." I spit coldly, spinning on my heel and walking around him. He follows me.
"Alright, I admit what I did was uncalled for..." he starts.

"Yeah, iust by a lot. I haven't even known you for a full day." I scoff. The timeline truly sinks in, but my thoughts are interrupted. Emerson steps in front of me. "Then let me take you out." His eyes catch mine, and his hands skillfully redirect me as I try and walk out. I stop walking and he twirls me around, my dress floating up a little as I giggle. "Mmm Maybe." I say as I turn to face him. He smirks down at me, placing one hand on my hip and the other holds my right hand up. "Ooo a man of culture." I tease as Emerson leads me in a waltz.

He hums as we twirl around my apartment to an invisible song, pulling me closer but holding me loosely. I smile brightly up at him, and he twirls me three times. I stumble slightly and giggle, and he pulls me back into his arms.

"Let me take you out Love."
I don't hesitate. "Yeah, alright."